


The Routine

by frozensight



Series: a whole new world (literally) [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensight/pseuds/frozensight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz has a morning routine that he's quite attached to, thank you. It's a very nice routine, he thinks, and it doesn't deserve to be altered in any way, shape, or form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Routine

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "you jog shirtless past my house every morning" au

He wakes up, slapping his alarm clock that goes off at the abysmal daily 5am, but doesn't get up until it's at least 5:15 out of principle. When he figures he's laid in bed long enough to sufficiently catalog a list of things he has to do that day, Leo throws off his blankets (sometimes covering his cat, sometimes flinging them off the bed entirely—today it’s the former), and makes his way to the bathroom.

He exits about twenty minutes later, freshly showered, teeth brushed, and hair towel-tousled. Leo leaves the towel hanging on the back of his bathroom door and walks back into his bedroom naked—only his cat is around to judge him after all—and picks out his clothes for work. He deliberates between his solid blue tie and his green striped one until he glances at his clock and sees it's almost 6, so he just grabs the dark red as a—wait for it—tie-breaker.

Darcy trots along in front of him, leading the way to the kitchen, and for the millionth time, Leo regrets letting Jemma contribute during the naming process of his fluffy tuxedo cat.

"Look at him! He looks so fancy, like he's ready for a dinner party!"

"He's a cat, Jem."

"He looks like a little gentleman—oh! You should name him Darcy!"

"Jem, _no_."

Scratching his new cat's chin, Jemma hadn't even bothered to look at Leo as she cooed, "But we like the name Darcy, don't we?"

He'd tried, Leo really had, but after a few days of this, the cat wouldn't respond to Leo's hastily chosen name of Reginald and only looked up if called Darcy.

"Oh _relax_ , Fitz," Jemma had said a week later, when Leo was complaining about it at work, loudly, to Skye. "You can always tell people he's named after Henry Darcy or something. It's far more believable for you to have named him after an obscure nineteenth century French engineer than the love interest of an Austen novel, anyway."

"Not that you and Elizabeth Bennett don't have something in common," had added Skye, grinning widely, and Leo had wished he'd never told them anything because they _clearly_ weren't his true friends.

By Leo’s sock-wearing feet, the devil himself meows softly, sitting patiently by his food bowl. Leo huffs as he pours a scoop of dry food into the bowl and then continues on into the kitchen. He checks the time on his microwave out of habit, grumbling to himself when he remembers yet again that he hasn't reset it from the last power outage, but luckily his cell phone comes to the rescue, declaring brightly that it's now 6:09, meaning he still has plenty of time to make coffee and breakfast.

His phone chimes at him when it turns 6:18, and Leo hurriedly finishes adding sugar to his travel mug of coffee (technically his third cup so far, but he had been up a bit later than intended the night before watching Netflix, okay?). He pets Darcy and then is out the door, at his car by 6:20, even.

Right on time.

Leo stalls, opening the car door, putting his coffee and satchel inside, but straightens the moment he hears the sound of footsteps coming up the street. Careful to not look up too quickly or eagerly, Leo pivots his head to face the noise, and fights back a grin when exactly on schedule, _he_ arrives. 'He' being his next-door neighbor who has a delightful habit of jogging around the block every morning, shirtless, and while normally Leo doesn’t pay attention to those who jog (shirtless or no), it’s a tad difficult to _not_ notice this guy. Abs are a very distracting quality when exposed and covered in a light sheen of sweat, especially with the corresponding face is just as nice.

"Good morning!" calls out Leo, his hand slightly raised in greeting. The man slows down then and nods in response, a tight expression on his face. As he pulls his earbuds out, the man stops directly at the end of Leo's driveway.

"Morning," is all he gets in reply.

Leo smiles as he gestures towards the sky, which is pink and lavender as the sun begins to ascend. "Beautiful morning, isn't it? Not too hot, not too cold. It'll be a shame once fall really sets in." A shame only because it'll probably mean a shirt for Mr. Jogging Neighbor, as Leo honestly prefers the colder months of the year. They remind him of good ol'Scotland.

The man shrugs, looking towards the sky as he wraps his earbuds around his iPod. "Weather is weather."

"Aye. Does that mean you have a mailman mentality about exercise then?" He gets a raised eyebrow for that, and Leo internally curses himself for trying to actually pursue a conversation this morning. "I just mean that, you'll be out running regardless of whether it's raining or snowing and such."

His mouth forms an 'o,' and Leo's more than a bit blown away when the guy actually _grins_ at him. "Yeah, something like that." He gestures towards his house. "I'm gonna go, y'know..." _Take a shower_. Leo pretends he doesn't feel his cheeks heating up slightly at the idea because frankly not much is currently being left to his imagination with those gym shorts.

"Right. Yeah. I've got to go to work anyhow."

The guy nods, grin still in place, and waves as he starts moving again. “Have a good day at work then.”

“And you have a good…” Leo cuts himself off before he can say _shower_ , absolutely certain his face is somewhat red now. “Day, have a good day.”

He _laughs_ and Leo is so proud that he made him do that, he almost doesn’t care it’s at his expense. Leo’s so caught up in the fact that they almost had a real conversation that he doesn’t get back into his car until the man has reached his door, and is looking back at Leo questioningly, like he’s asking, ‘Aren’t you leaving?’

“Yes, yes, work,” Leo mutters to himself. He gets into the car and rushes to drive off, to impress upon the idea that he had definitely _not_ been so mesmerized by the man’s laugh that he’d completely forgotten his schedule for the day. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that the man watches as he drives away, not entering his house until Leo reaches the stop sign at the end of the street.

\------

“Oh Fitz,” murmurs Jemma when he’s telling her about it a couple hours later at work.

“What? It’s _progress_!”

Skye snorts, eyes not deviating from her computer screen for a second. “It’s _pathetic_. Tell me one thing about him.”

“H-He’s attractive.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Something _substantial_ , Leo. Physical attributes, while often aesthetically pleasing, don’t always tell us something real about a person.” She taps her chin with a finger in pause. “However, the state of physical upkeep he clearly seems to maintain would indicate that he’s either a narcissist or his athletic physique is somehow required for his occupation.” Jemma looks at Leo. “What did you say he did again?”

Leo suddenly becomes interested in his sadly very empty travel mug. “I didn’t.”

That makes Skye look up, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Didn’t tell us because it’s embarrassing or didn’t tell us because you have no idea?”

He fidgets with the lid, closing it and opening it again. “The latter.”

She huffs. “Do you even know this guy’s _name_ , Fitz? You’ve only been going on about him for _months_.” When he doesn’t say anything, even Jemma makes a noise of exasperation and Skye scoffs. “ _Seriously_ Fitz, you’re mooning over a guy who could be a spy or a serial killer or a sex offender!”

“He’s not!”

Skye levels him with her ‘are you fucking kidding me with that stupid talk’ expression, which is usually reserved for people who question her ability to outmaneuver them in coding. “Dude, you don’t even know his _name_ —you don’t know _anything_ about him, and don’t give me that ‘I’m a good judge of character’ bullshit because all you’ve managed to talk about is the weather, which does not a personality assessment make.”

Leo falls quiet for a moment before he smiles and says, “I do know he drives a Porsche! I see him drive away in it sometimes on Saturdays.”

Jemma and Skye exchange eyebrow glances, as if they’re silently assessing this information. Eventually Skye goes back to her computer, mumbling, “That’s at least a super vague _something_ to go on.”

\------

Hours later, Skye waltzes back into Jemma and Leo’s lab, beaming. “Found him.”

“Really?” Jemma asks, his face brightening.

“How?” Leo questions, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes, really, and I cross-referenced Porsche owners with addresses near you, Fitz, duh.”

He wants to ask if she hacked into the DMV again, but Leo decides he’d much rather know Mr. Jogging Neighbor’s name instead.

“And?”

“ _And_ , you’ll never believe this,” Skye rocks on the balls of her feet, dragging out her response until Leo glares at her. “I _know_ him.”

Leo almost slips off his stool while Jemma gasps excitedly. “What do you mean you _know him_?”

“I mean, dear Leopold, that your personal McSteamy is also a guy I went to college with. I recognized him the moment his license photo loaded.” Well, Leo thinks, that answers his first unasked question.

“Okay, so _what’s his name_?”

Skye raises an eyebrow at him, and Leo has a sinking feeling that she’s in one of her ‘let’s play a game’ moods. “What makes you think I’m telling? I wanted to know so I could run a background check on him and make sure he wouldn’t kidnap you and slice you into a dozen pieces and then toss you into the nearest body of water like the Bay Harbor Butcher. I didn’t find out so that I could _tell you_. You’ll just have to ask him yourself. Or go through his mail, but that’s both stalker-y and a borderline crime.”

“But Skye!”

“Nope!” She’s already turning away and walking out the door again. “You’ve had more than enough time to ask his name; there’s no way I’m just _giving_ it to you!”

Leo settles back into his chair, arms crossed in frustration. Jemma, on the other hand, chases after Skye, asking, “Can _I_ know his name?”

“Of course!”

As the door slides shut behind the two women who are whispering to each other, Leo decides that yes he _does_ need new friends.

\------

Cursing as he rolls over to shut off his alarm that he’d forgotten to turn off for the weekend, Leo lays in bed, staring at the clock that’s proclaiming it to be 5:01am. It’s been three days since Skye found out the name of Mr. Jogging Neighbor, and ever since, her and Jemma have been nigh _insufferable_ about it. It’s only Saturday, and Leo is already dreading Monday morning where the both of them will whisper to each other just out of earshot and then grin over at him knowingly. It’s maddening.

It’s just maddening enough that Leo gets out of bed at 5:08 on a Saturday morning.

\------

He takes longer getting dressed than he usually does, and Leo can’t help but feel ridiculous as he puts on a pair of jeans and a blue button-up. He’s not even going to be walking past his driveway, and yet he’s putting more effort into his appearance than when he goes to work.

Darcy, however, seems to be intrigued by Leo’s frantic nature, and has been sitting silently off to the side, not meowing once as a reminder to be fed. The one time Leo does meet his cat’s eyes, he gets the feeling that he’s being laughed at silently. He ignores Darcy after that, and instead worries about what the hell he’s going to do with his _damn curls_.

\------

At 6:19, Leo forces himself to walk—not run—outside. His cover, he reasons, is that he’s picking up the daily paper, and that the excuse of ‘I forgot to turn off my weekday alarm’ will explain the ‘why now not later.’

When 6:22 rolls along and Mr. Jogging Neighbor doesn’t show up, Leo throws a glance over at his house, almost worried. He was sure that while his personal routine differed on the weekends, it didn’t for his neighbor. Vaguely he can recall the early days of owning Darcy when he’d wake Leo up at 6:10, wanting to be fed, and Leo would lurk by his window, only to be rewarded with Mr. Jogging Neighbor running by shirtless, precisely at 6:20.

Therefore, by the time Leo’s phone says that it’s almost 6:30, meaning that he’s been waiting outside for ten minutes, he decides that maybe Mr. Jogging Neighbor had taken the morning off, and like usual, Leo has _awful_ timing. He picks up his paper reluctantly, more than a little disheartened that his plan had been _utterly_ ruined thus far, and heads back into his house.

\------

Mr. Jogging Neighbor doesn’t appear Sunday morning either (yes, Leo woke up at 6:18 just to watch for him), but considering his absence on Saturday, that isn’t so surprising. Instead of obsessing over where his neighbor has been, Leo forces himself to focus instead on the calculations for his latest project that he brought home. The work is slow, mostly because Darcy keeps deciding that it’s play time every single time Leo shifts his papers around, and Leo can only get so much done at a time when his cat has taken to sneak-attacking important documents.

Eventually he does solve the problem he’d been having—wrong sign here, dropped decimal there, and Leo’s definitely not telling Jemma about the fact that her guesstimates turned out to be more accurate than his—and tucks all his work safely away into his satchel again. Once that’s done, Leo dutifully pulls out a laser pointer and has Darcy chasing the red dot in circles until the cat lays down, panting, on the floor.

\------

Monday morning dawns bright, and Leo’s completely awake by 5:05—brain unable to stop thinking about whether Mr. Jogging Neighbor will make a gallant return that day. He carries about like he usually would, though he spends a little extra time choosing what to wear, and he even gives in and plays with Darcy for a bit before heading out the door by 6:19.

Sipping his coffee by his mailbox, Leo patiently waits for three minutes before he decides that Mr. Jogging Neighbor isn’t going to appear. Three more minutes pass before Leo actually moves from his spot by his mailbox because it took him that long to work up the nerve to make up his mind on his next course of action. Eventually though, the thought of Skye and Jemma whispering to themselves in a corner of the lab without him drives him enough that he takes the necessary steps to Mr. Jogging Neighbor’s front door.

It takes additional remembering of Skye’s smug grin before he knocks.

For a moment, Leo thinks that no one is going to answer, but then he hears shuffling behind the door just before it creaks open enough to reveal a disheveled and confused looking Mr. Jogging Neighbor.

“Hello?” he asks, his voice muffled and Leo’s pretty certain that the familiar tones of a man who is congested as hell.

“Ah, yes, hello, I, uh, couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t go running this morning—or the past two mornings—and I thought I’d check up on you!” Leo knows he’s blushing, but soldiers on despite the raised eyebrow he’s now getting. “It just seemed like the neighborly thing to do!”

“So you woke me up at 6:30am to check on me?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have work or something? You’re usually long gone by now.”

Leo tamps down on his glee that he’s not the only one paying attention. “Aye, usually, but technically I don’t have to be at work until 8am and it only takes about half an hour to get there, so I figured I’d do this right quick.”

His neighbor narrows his eyes, confusion settling in even further on his face. “Then why the hell do you leave at 6:20?”

“Well,” Leo glances at Mr. Jogging Neighbor before focusing on his feet instead. “I’ve just gotten into the habit of saying hello to you, and it seemed a shame to stop just because I don’t have to be up as early.”

“Are you saying that you get up and leave so early, so you can tell me good morning?” He sneezes before he or Leo can say anything else, almost hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Bless you,” Leo replies automatically, “And, uh, aye, that is what I’m telling you.”

Leo catches him grinning, and he grins back as Mr. Jogging Neighbor says, “I guess I don’t quite have the mailman mentality you thought I did though.” That makes Leo furrow his brow, confused himself, until the man elaborates, “I let having the flu stop me from exercising, not very worthy of the postal service’s motto anymore.”

Rolling his eyes, Leo waves his hand around—fortunately the one not holding his travel mug—and responds with, “Don’t be ridiculous, being sick isn’t the same thing as braving the _weather_ , though sometimes braving the weather will _cause_ you to become sick, but it’s still not the same thing! Also, how the bloody hell did you manage to catch the flu in _August_?”

He shrugs, coughing slightly. “Dunno. Skye says I have a knack for bad timing.”

If he’d been moving, Leo almost certainly would’ve tripped. “Wait— _Skye_? Not Skye Johnson, by any chance?” The man nods slowly, clearly unsure where this is going. “ _Skye_ knows you’re sick?”

Mr. Jogging Neighbor backs up a little, wariness spreading over his face again with a tinge of shock thrown in the mix. “Yes? She’s my best friend, why wouldn’t she know I was sick?” He pauses. “How do _you_ know Skye?”

“I work with her! I see her every day because she loiters in my lab with her laptop, taunting me about the fact I don’t know your name!”

“Grant.”

Leo blinks. “What?”

He huffs, which turns into another cough, but when that subsides, he’s smiling weakly as he repeats, “Grant, that’s my name.”

“Oh, well, I’m Leo.”

“Well, Leo, as much as I’d love to stand here and plan with you on how we’re going to repay Skye for the runaround she’s given us, I’m about to pass out because I still have NyQuil in my system.”

“Right, right, and I should get to work and get a start on a payback plan then, shall I? Oh, and I can bring you some soup or medicine on my way home from work?”

Grant’s smile strengthens for a second, and Leo tries to ignore the way his heart flutters just a bit. “That sounds great, Leo.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Alright—and Leo?” He stops, half turned away from Grant’s door. “Good morning.”

Leo smiles brightly at Grant. “Good morning.”

Despite what Grant said, he doesn’t close his front door until Leo’s in his car at the stop sign, and Leo knows this because he is watching Grant’s house in his rearview mirror the whole time. He’s pretty sure he’s fairly obvious about it, however, because Grant gives a little wave before retreating back into his house.

Leo’s thoughts are divided as he drives to work between the road and thinking about how Grant— _Grant!_ he has a name to call him finally—still looks attractive despite being sick. He was paler sure, and it was clear that he had been hunched over slightly, but neither of those things distract from the fact his shoulders were broad and that scruff was a good look on him.

Idly, while waiting for a light to turn green, Leo wonders if Grant’s allergic to cats, and it’s about there that he realizes just how far gone he might be.

He can’t stop the smile that worms its way onto his face as he accelerates again now the light is green. He doesn’t really care if he’s perhaps putting his cart before the horse because he knows his _name_ , and from reading between the lines of their brief chat, Grant has wanted _his_ name as well.


End file.
